


You're My Cherry Blossom

by servecobwebheadaches



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Ryden, Sexual Undertones, fever era, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 14:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5931898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servecobwebheadaches/pseuds/servecobwebheadaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan was worried and a bit hurt when Brendon started to grow distant from him.  Brendon wasn't acting like himself, he was too quiet and unhappy.  Yet while Ryan tried to figure out what was wrong, Brendon pushed himself away even more, and Ryan couldn't figure out the answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My Cherry Blossom

**Author's Note:**

> An anon on tumblr requested that I do an insecure!Brendon fic, so this is it. I originally had a bunch of ideas for this to be extremely sad with Brendon being horribly self-conscious after Ryan left him. Then I decided I didn't want to suffer like that, and this fluffy thing is the result. This may be triggering if you have issues with self-esteem problems being discussed. Also, the title is from Centuries by Fall Out Boy because I'm bad at originality.

Brendon was always determined to try to impress Ryan.  Whether it be with his musical talent, his looks, or his natural charm, Brendon wanted to show off to Ryan, although Ryan had already fallen for him so hard, he didn't really need to.  Brendon was never shy around Ryan, he would always talk to Ryan if he needed anything or if he just wanted some playful banter.   
  
Ryan couldn't help but admire everything about him.   
  
Brendon was gorgeous, and Ryan wouldn't hesitate to tell him since they're relationship had moved past just friends.  Ryan still felt dizzy, felt the air leave his body, whenever Brendon crawled in his lap to kiss him, full lips curved upwards and chocolate brown eyes bright.  Ryan didn't know how anyone could be so perfect.   
  
Brendon stole the shows every night, all the attention on him.  Ryan couldn't even look away from him half the time.   
  
As the crowds at the shows grew, the band's popularity skyrocketed, Brendon became a heartthrob, girls fawning over him.  Ryan knew Brendon deserved every compliment he received, but it started to make Ryan feel that his words were meaningless to say.  It began to appear that Ryan was right, but he didn't quite know what to do.  It was his place to be affectionate with Brendon.   
  
Brendon came to Ryan, biting his lips, in the dressing room of a venue.  "Ryan?" He asked, voice unsure, too quiet, and it instantly grabbed Ryan's attention.   
  
"Yeah?" Ryan said, putting his eyeliner down and turning away from the mirror.   
  
"When you're done . . . will you do my makeup?"   
  
Ryan raised his eyebrows.  "You want to wear makeup?"   
  
"Uh, yeah, I think so.  I mean, I know that's your thing, but if you don't mind . . ."  Brendon glanced at his and Ryan's reflection in the mirror, Brendon's fair skin clear next to Ryan's.   Ryan's face was already decorated with purple and black designs, covering any flaws Ryan didn't want to anyone to notice.  But Brendon didn't have any flaws; Ryan didn't know what Brendon wanted him to do.   
  
"Yeah, uh, sit down," Ryan said, pulling out a chair.  Brendon did so and tilted his chin up, presenting his face to Ryan.  Ryan smiled slightly and sat across from him.  "What do you want me to do?" Ryan asked, grabbing his case of eyeshadow and face paint.   
  
Brendon shrugged.  "Make me look good."   
  
"Really?  You already look good, B, I don't know what else I can do."   
  
Brendon rolled his eyes.  "Yes, really.  You're good at this, so do something."   
  
Ryan scoffed.  "Well, um . . . Let's just do some eyeliner, and we'll see if you like it, okay?"   
  
"Yeah, sure.  Thanks."   
  
Ryan carefully applied the eyeliner around Brendon's eyes, extra dark for the stage.  Brendon stood when Ryan was finished, staring at his reflection quietly.  "Is it good?" Ryan asked.   
  
Brendon snapped out of his daze.  "Yeah, it's good.  Thanks again."   
  
"No problem."   
  
Brendon's lips twitched upwards, and he leaned over to kiss Ryan on the forehead, through his bangs.  "See you onstage, baby," Brendon said, and sauntered out of the room.   
  
Ryan didn't worry much about it, and did Brendon's makeup every night after that.  He eventually added yellow and black eyeshadow by Brendon's request.  It either made his eyes pop or made his cheekbones look more defined, and Brendon seemed pleased with it, for the time being.   
  
And then Brendon stopped going to Ryan for his makeup.   
  
He started doing it on his own, no warning to Ryan, just going out onstage with whatever he wanted on his face.  It didn't look bad at all, and it wasn't really a problem.  Ryan said nothing about it, besides tell Brendon he looked good after shows.  That always gave Brendon a guaranteed motive to seduce Ryan at night.   
  
And then the seducing stopped, too.   
  
Brendon seemed more shy, losing his confidence to do whatever he wanted with Ryan.  When Ryan kissed him, Brendon wouldn't let it go farther than that, scurrying away to do something else with a weak smile.   
  
Ryan started to worry about their relationship, how Brendon felt, and paid more attention to him and his actions.   
  
Brendon was more distant than ever, and there was some sort of darkness over his bright persona.  His voice seemed more monotone, like he was always in a bad mood, and his laugh was rarely ever heard.  Ryan could coax it out of him sometimes, but Brendon seemed almost hesitant to let it happen.  Brendon didn't like practicing at all, dreaded sound checks, and certainly didn't sing loudly in the middle of a movie just to annoy Ryan.  After shows, he disappeared into the bathroom of his dressing room for long periods of time, and Ryan didn't know what he was doing.   
  
Ryan found himself being overly careful when he talked to Brendon, having to plan out what he was going to say and how he was going to say it before every conversation.  He hated that; he just wanted to talk to Brendon and have fun with him and just have him be his cheerful self again.  Ryan started getting concerned it was something he did.   
  
Ryan only began suspecting it was an internal problem for Brendon when he heard the boy crying in the shower one night.  From outside the locked door at the venue, Ryan could hear Brendon's sniffles and sobs over the running water, a heartbreaking sound.  Ryan wanted more than anything to make it stop, bring back Brendon's laugh.  He absolutely couldn't just let Brendon cry, and knocked on the door.  Ryan flinched when Brendon immediately shouted, "Leave me alone for a minute!"   
  
"Babe, it's just me.  Can I come in?"   
  
There was a pause, and then Ryan could hear Brendon crying again.  "No, I'm sorry."   
  
Ryan sighed and sat outside the door for a whole forty five minutes, waiting for Brendon to come out.  When he did, he was already wearing loose pajama pants and a hoodie.  He dug his hands in his pockets and tried to get away before Ryan could stop him.  "Brendon, Brendon," Ryan said, reaching for his arm.  Brendon moved away, Ryan's fingertips barely touching him.  "Are you okay?"   
  
Brendon looked over at him, eyes and cheeks red.  "Yeah, I'm okay now," he said, eyebrows furrowed.  "I think I'm just exhausted."   
  
Ryan didn't believe that, and followed Brendon all the way to his bunk.  He didn't crawl in after Brendon, but did purposely pull the blankets over Brendon, tuck him in.  He leaned in the bunk and kissed Brendon's nose, playful.  "Whatever it is, you can tell me," Ryan said.   
  
"I know," Brendon replied, then shut his eyes like he was going to sleep.   
  
Ryan didn't get any more elaboration.   
  
Ryan wanted to be closer to him more than ever, and couldn't get any answers out of Brendon no matter how much he asked what was wrong.  If they camped out on the couch at night, Brendon wouldn't let Ryan hold him like normal, and made Ryan initiate all the kisses.  If Ryan didn't take Brendon by the shoulders to stop him, Brendon would part with Ryan every night without an, "I love you," or a kiss, instead a mere, "Goodnight."  Ryan just hugged Brendon sometimes, holding him tightly to his chest and kissing his hair until Brendon moved away.   
  
Ryan was hurt, to say the least.  He didn't see Brendon until a few minutes before they went onstage.  Brendon didn't stop in just to say hi.  Yet when everyone was freaking out one night, because Brendon had seemingly vanished five minutes before show, they sent Ryan to look for him.   
  
He found Brendon in his dressing room, which wasn't unexpected.  The door of the room was cracked, and Ryan watched Brendon through the crack instead of just walking into the room.  Brendon stood in front of the mirror, eyes wide and unblinking, running his fingers over his lips. He moved his fingers to touch his cheekbones, then down his neck.  He froze when his fingers reached the high collar of his costume, and he looked away from the mirror, panting like he had been holding his breath.   
  
Ryan wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, and pushed the door open with a creek.  Brendon startled, looking up and over at Ryan with a hand on his chest.  "Hey, sorry to scare you.  We've gotta be on in five, so . . ."   
  
"Shit, okay."   
  
Ryan waited for him, and took his hand to lead Brendon backstage.  Brendon didn't let go, which Ryan was thankful for.   
  
Brendon began pacing and running his hands obsessively through his hair in the few minutes before the show, and just the sight made Ryan anxious.  He reluctantly curled his fingers around Brendon's waist.  "Hey, BrennyBear, calm down," he whispered in his ear, kissing Brendon's cheek.   
  
"Don't call me that," Brendon said quietly.   
  
"Okay, sorry," Ryan said, and moved away, letting Brendon continue.   
  
Brendon didn't look at Ryan through the show.   
  
Afterwards, Spencer walked with Brendon, and neither of them realized Ryan was right behind them.  "Is everything okay with you and Ryan?" Spencer asked Brendon.   
  
"Yeah, yeah, I mean, I think so?  Has he said anything?" Brendon asked.   
  
"No, no, I was just wondering, because you seem a little off lately, I just wanted to make sure . . ."   
  
"We're fine," Brendon said.   
  
Brendon was crying in the shower again, no more than ten minutes later.  Ryan stood outside the door, head resting on the wood, listening to Brendon sound absolutely distraught, and Ryan didn't even know why.  After what seemed like a long period of time waiting, Ryan made the decision.  He unzipped and unlaced his vest, unbuttoned his shirt, dropped them to the ground.  He took off his pants and shoes, and quietly opened the bathroom door.  There wasn't steam collecting in the bathroom like Ryan thought there would be.   
  
Ryan slowly and quietly pulled back the shower curtain, so not to scare Brendon.  Brendon had his arms pushed against the wall in front of him, his head resting against them.  He looked tiny and helpless, worn out.  Ryan's heart dropped to his stomach.  He stepped in the shower behind Brendon, and skimmed his fingertips across Brendon's shoulder blades.  Brendon jumped, and that movement caused him to slip and start falling, letting out a high pitched yelp.  Ryan caught him, Brendon falling back into Ryan's arms.  He was crying hard, even more shaken up than before.  "Brendon . . ."   
  
Brendon rushed to the other side of the shower, arms crossed over his abdomen, trying to cover himself.  Ryan winced, because Brendon really didn't need to protect himself—it wasn't like Ryan hadn't seen him naked before.  "What're you doing?" Brendon whimpered.   
  
"Just joining you."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"I'm worried about you.  Why're you crying?  What's wrong, my love?"   
  
Brendon hung his head, biting his lip.  Ryan patiently waited for an answer.  "You don't love me, do you?  I mean, how could you?  Why are you doing this, Ryan?"   
  
Ryan's blood went cold.  "What do you mean?  I love you so fucking much, you know that."   
  
Brendon sobbed.  "There's no reason for you to love me. I—I'm not even a good person."   
  
"You can't mean that, Brendon."  Ryan felt uncomfortable, with the two of them talking over the stream of water.  He carefully reached behind Brendon to turn the water off.  "Let's go sit down somewhere, okay?"   
  
Ryan wrapped a towel around Brendon's shoulders, and Brendon tried to look in the mirror before Ryan whisked him out of the room.  He tossed Brendon his clothes and got dressed himself.  He took Brendon back to the empty bus, sitting him on the couch.  Ryan slowed down to sit next to him, and carefully looked at Brendon's tear-stained face.  "I want you to tell me what's wrong," Ryan said.   
  
Brendon pulled his knees up to his chest, sinking back into the cushions.  "A lot of things are wrong."   
  
Ryan sighed.  "Tell me? I want to help you."  Brendon winced and tears started falling again.  "No?  I don't want you to feel pressured or anything."   
  
"I don't know where to s-start."   
  
Ryan didn't want to say the wrong thing, make it seem like Brendon did something wrong.  "I saw you looking in the mirror earlier.  Did something happen, B?"   
  
Brendon dropped his head again. "I—I'm—" he stammered, before sobbing again.  He palmed at his face, trying to wipe away the tears.  "I'm a fucking mess," he cried.   
  
"It's okay."  Ryan wanted more than anything to pull Brendon close, hug him and comfort him.  He didn't think Brendon would allow it.   
  
"I—people feel bad for me," Brendon finally said.  Ryan stayed silent to wait for more of an explanation.  "It's just like, so many people say nice things about me, like, fuck, about how I look and it's good stuff, but it just, it got me thinking and paying more attention, and holy shit, none of it's true.  People just pity me, the ugly lead singer of this popular band, and it's not like my voice even sounds good—"   
  
"Brendon, I'm sorry, but slow down, I think you're hyperventilating."  Brendon's chest was heaving, cheeks pink, as he let the words fly from his lips.  Ryan couldn't believe a word he was saying.   
  
Brendon nodded.  "And then there's you, Ryan.  You've always been so good to me, and I don't deserve it at all."   
  
"Sh, sh, I need you to go back a bit.  I know you've got a lot on your mind, but we've got time, okay?  There's no rush."  Brendon hiccuped and nodded once more, all glistening eyes.  "You started saying you've been thinking more about how you look.  Talk to me about that."   
  
Brendon was trembling, and he wouldn't look up at Ryan.  "I hate it, Ryan.  I never look good, I'm so . . . just ugly."   
  
Ryan raised an eyebrow, and would've questioned if Brendon was being serious if it weren't for the tears streaming down his face. Brendon stayed curled up, staring at his knees.  Ryan gulped.  "That's ridiculous," he said.  "Why do you think that?"   
  
"I don't have any good qualities.  I look stupid."   
  
"Lover, you know that's not true." Brendon picked at the seam of his jeans and sniffled.  "Why would you think that?  You're so beautiful."   
  
"I'm not, though.  I . . . There's so much wrong."   
  
"Like what?  You're absolutely flawless."   
  
"My face isn't proportionate," he deadpanned.  "My lips don't match up with the rest of my face, and I h-have, like, a double chin almost."   
  
"Brendon, you've got nothing to be self conscious about."   
  
Brendon winced.  "There's more."   
  
"You can tell me."   
  
"My figure is bad.  My legs are too short and fat, my ass is huge, I have too much hips, and a little belly.  I'm not pretty and skinny like you and I'm embarrassed to go shirtless, especially when you're around.  I look like shit on stage and you always look so insanely perfect that it just makes me look worse.  I barely have any muscle and definitely no tone, and that makes me the opposite of what people think is attractive."   
  
Ryan's fingers itched; he just wanted to touch Brendon, make him see how beautiful he was.  "You're sexy as fuck, B, I mean that, you know how much I mean that."   
  
Brendon finally smiled a little bit, though it was shy, still looking down at his lap.  Then his smile crumbled, visibly showing how his thoughts were getting to him, and the words started coming again.  "I don't know why you would think that.  I'm not even that good in bed, and that's pretty much the only reason you would say you love me, for sex on tour.  That's all I can think of.  I can't even sing that well, and your music deserves a great voice.  You just feel sorry for me—" he choked on a sob, "—because I'd never get anything else.  I'm probably so embarrassing to you, and—"   
  
Ryan couldn't take hearing Brendon tear himself down like that, diminish all of Ryan's love to shreds, and cut him off.  "No, no, shh.  You're perfect, I love you so much—"   
  
"You—you just feel obligated to say that."   
  
Ryan faltered, that obviously not being good enough.  He then continued, leaving any cautious filter behind.  "You're the most gorgeous person to ever walk this fucking planet.  I look at you sometimes, and I don't know how it's possible for someone to look as good as you do."  He paused, looking at the grimace on Brendon's face.  "It's true.  You . . . your lips.  Your lips.  Brendon, I don't know how you could think those are less than desirable.  People get surgeries to have lips that look like yours, and you don't even have to try.  And I," Ryan swallowed, "I think about your lips—all. The fucking. Time.  They're so nice, all I want are kisses.  They fit your face perfectly."  Ryan brushed his fingertips under Brendon's chin, so Brendon would look up.  "Please?" He asked, leaning in close.  Brendon accepted, and Ryan put his lips to Brendon's with a sigh.   
  
When they parted lips, Brendon curled back in on himself, to Ryan's disappointment.  "You think you have a —what did you say?—a double chin?  You don't.  Just because your face doesn't look skeletal doesn't mean you have a double chin."  Brendon's eyebrows furrowed, like he was actually considering what Ryan was saying.  "And your body," Ryan persisted, "can go from adorable to hot—and I mean  _ hot _ —in less than a second in my mind.  You get me worked up like nothing else, you have no idea all the things just thinking about you can do to me.  It doesn't get better than you, you're all I want to see."   
  
"You don't mean that."   
  
"Yes I do, Brendon, I do."  Ryan had a strong urge to simply shower Brendon with kisses, to show him, prove to him how perfect his body was.  Ryan resisted for Brendon's comfort.  "And your performance," Ryan said, voice softer, "is incredible.  Going out there every night and showing how talented you are.  Your voice is magic, okay?  We'd be nowhere without you.  As a band—we're lucky to have you, and you deserve so much more than this band, not the other way around."   
  
"You still think so?" Brendon asked, bashful.   
  
"Of course.  You're the most talented person I've ever met."   
  
"Th-thank you," Brendon spluttered.   
  
Ryan gave him a small smile.  "And me?  I'm in love with you.  It's, like, ridiculous.  And, yeah, sex with you is fucking amazing, but I just—I want to be with you, all the time.  I love you."   
  
Brendon looked up into Ryan's eyes.  "I love you too."   
  
Cupping Brendon's face with both his hands, Ryan moved back in for another kiss.  With open arms, he blinked down at Brendon.  "Come here," he whispered, inviting Brendon to curl up in his arms.  Brendon rested against Ryan's chest, and Ryan relished in having Brendon so close to him again.  Ryan had one arm around Brendon's back, and the other touching Brendon—Ryan had Brendon's shirt pushed up to his ribs, and was stroking a repetitive line of skin from Brendon's abdomen to his hip bone.  Ryan loved feeling the curves of Brendon's body, and couldn't fathom how Brendon didn't like having them.  He kissed Brendon's temple, and Brendon sleepily buried his face in Ryan's neck.   
  
"Thank you so much," Brendon said, "thank you.  I'm so lucky to have you."   
  
"I'm lucky to have  _ you _ ."   
  
As the exhaustion from crying and performing wore on Brendon, he drifted off to sleep, leaving Ryan to think.  He knew it would take awhile, that he couldn't just fix Brendon's problems in one conversation, no matter how hard he tried.  But he was determined to help Brendon, to make him feel good about himself again and get him out of his insecure state of mind.   
  
<<<<<>>>>>   
  
The next time Ryan caught Brendon looking in the mirror for a few minutes too long, he distracted him.  Ryan hugged Brendon around the waist from behind, looking up at both their reflections.  "Hey, beautiful, stop that now," Ryan said.  He took Brendon's hips and spun him around, leaning Brendon back against the counter in front of the mirror.  He kissed Brendon's neck a few times, and breathed, "My pretty boy shouldn't look so sad."  Ryan bumped their noses together and pecked Brendon on the lips.   
  
Brendon wrapped his arms around Ryan, and pressed himself close.   
  
When Ryan heard Brendon crying in the shower again, he immediately joined him under the spray of water.  "Really, why're you crying?" He asked.   
  
"It's just—" Brendon's lip trembled, and he looked down at himself, "—I can see everything."   
  
Ryan let his eyes wander, looking Brendon up and down.  "Well, that's the great part about showers.  I can see everything, too, you know," Ryan said.   
  
Brendon bit his lip with a raised eyebrow, locking eyes with Ryan, and Ryan pushed him up against a wall with a fierce kiss.   
  
Brendon definitely wasn't crying anymore.


End file.
